The words hung between them, heavy as molten metal.
The last Nile Bride.
Raymun's stomach twisted. She had survived, escaped, fought for herself—but she had never thought about what would follow, who would replace her, what the river demanded next. A sour ache coiled in her chest. Was she selfish to want her own life?
"And how exactly are you planning to do that? And why?" she asked, raising a brow. Her voice was sharper than she expected—defiance mixed with fear. Could he really oppose the Pharaoh? Could anyone?
The man's golden eyes held her gaze, unwavering. "The Pharaoh worships gods he knows nothing of," he said, annoyance sharpening his tone. "He obeys orders blindly. He understands nothing of what he's doing—or whom he serves."
"And you do?" she challenged, squaring her shoulders. "You understand?"
"More than you could imagine," he replied evenly. His calm certainty made her pulse tighten.
She studied him, still doubting. His presence filled the small room like a living force. Every breath, every movement carried control, power, and a hint of danger she couldn't ignore. Could he really defy Pharaoh? Could he really protect me?
"Anyway," he said, rising from the floor after a brief pause, "we must leave."
"Again?" Her feet ached at the thought of another flight, another chase through alleys and shadows.
"I only came to grab something," he said, shrugging a leather strap over his shoulder. "Your uncle will leave no stone unturned to find you. If you want to survive—and I know you do—we start moving now."
She swallowed. He was right. Her uncle's soldiers would already be combing the streets, questioning every passerby. There's no time to hesitate.
"Don't do that," he muttered softly.
"Do what?"
"Pout like that." He arched a brow, irritation and amusement mixed in his gaze. "You knew the path would be hard. You know your feet are made for marble, for silk, for palace floors. This—" He gestured to the tiny, austere room—"is what you must endure now."
"Contrary to what you believe, I am not a spoiled brat," she retorted, pouting anyway.
He chuckled—a low, warm sound that seemed almost dangerous in its intimacy.
Raymun adjusted the crimson cloak around her shoulders, forcing herself upright. I may rely on him, but I am not powerless.
"Osairin," He suddenly said
"What now?" She asked, tilting her head.
She nearly stumbled as he stepped closer than she expected. His presence was magnetic, suffocating, intoxicating. She could feel his breath against her cheek, warm and quick.
"My name," he murmured softly, eyes glinting in the dim light. "Osairin."
Her pulse spiked. She had heard it before—somewhere—but the memory slipped away like water through her fingers. Standing here, so near him, she found it impossible to focus.
"You're trembling," he said, voice teasing, low, intimate.
Raymun forced herself to look away, but the brush of his sleeve against hers made her shiver. It was not fear alone… something else twisted her stomach.
His hand brushed hers as he reached for the leather strap of her cloak, brief but electric. She could feel the heat radiating from him, smell faint leather and smoke lingering on his skin. In that moment, the danger of the city, the Pharaoh, even her own family, seemed distant
All that mattered was the charged space between them, the silent pull neither dared speak aloud.
"You planned to survive," Osairin murmured, golden eyes locking on hers, "and now you must choose—follow me, or risk everything."
Raymun's mind raced. Her chest tightened. Follow him? Trust him? Or run blind and be lost to the river's will?
Her hands curled into fists, her voice steady despite the storm inside. "I survive on my terms. Not by anyone else's."
He studied her, golden gaze unwavering. Then, a faint, approving smile touched his lips. "Good. That's why I need you."
Raymun's heart thudded, caught between fear and defiance. She didn't fully understand him, this godlike being who moved through shadows as if born for them.
But one thing was clear—she wasn't just running from the river, the Pharaoh, or her uncle. She was standing on the edge of a new path, and for the first time, she wasn't entirely alone.